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<title>The Language of Love by SherlockianSyndromes</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802950">The Language of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes'>SherlockianSyndromes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't Ask Don't Tell, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Love Languages, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:27:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Song Titles comment_fic prompt: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Any, Somebody Loves Me (Melanie)</p>
<p>Somebody keeps leaving random doodles and sketches for John to find.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Lorne/John Sheppard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Language of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Somebody wants me, I wonder who </em>
  <br/>
  <em> Maybe it's you </em>
</p>
<p>At first, it was hidden in the minute details - things that John never gave much thought to, could easily be taken for granted. All his paperwork was filled out correctly, only requiring a quick glance and a few dozen initials. The Daedalus came in with deliveries from Earth, and sailed back out just as quickly. Fresh-faced Marines were briefed and put into training the same day.</p>
<p>John didn't realize the smooth operation of Atlantis rested on one person's shoulders until Evan Lorne popped his <em> get captured and tortured by the locals until rescued </em> cherry.</p>
<p>With Lorne in the infirmary, John's world was a mess. Paperwork piled up on his desk. He kept scheduling meetings that conflicted with one another. The Daedalus was late. Baby Marines lined up outside his office with questions John didn't have the answers to.</p>
<p>When Lorne was cleared to return to duty, John felt everything slot back into its usual place within a few days.</p>
<p><em> You're a miracle worker, </em> he'd said to Lorne.</p>
<p><em> Just doing my job, sir, </em>was Lorne's only reply but the smile he'd given John made something stutter in John's chest.</p>
<p>He tried not to think about it.</p>
<p>It became more difficult to ignore once Lorne's favors started to become a little more personal. A hot cup of coffee waiting on John's desk. Extra PowerBars hidden in a drawer for when John got buried in military red tape and forgot to eat. Requests from the Daedalus prioritized. Sundays scheduled.</p>
<p>A closed door when it got to be a little too much.</p>
<p>A listening ear when John needed to rant about the latest crazy thing McKay had done that nearly jeopardized a mission.</p>
<p>Whatever John needed, Lorne provided.</p>
<p>One day, John found a Post-It stuck to his datapad. On it was a small doodle of a flower. He didn't think much of it, but it made him smile, and he kept it with him until he was back in the office so he could stick it on his desk where he could see it.</p>
<p>A few days later, a rough sketch of a Jumper. The next day, a small grove of trees. It became something to look forward to. John collected them all on his desk in a dedicated spot. Lorne asked who'd drawn them and John shrugged. <em> It's fun to have my own personal art gallery though, </em> John said as he walked out of the office.</p>
<p>The drawings stopped after that. John missed them.</p>
<p>Then he found a rough sketch of himself, folded neatly on his desk. Thicker paper, done in charcoal pencil. Quick, and probably from memory. John stared at it and found himself unable to breathe. There was no signature on it anywhere - just his likeness staring back at him.</p>
<p>"Something wrong, sir?" Lorne asked.</p>
<p>John cleared his throat and tucked the drawing away in a drawer. "Nope. I'm fine."</p>
<p>Lorne seemed unconvinced, but nodded and turned away regardless.</p>
<p>The drawings began again in earnest then. All on the same thick paper, all done in charcoal, and all of John. Some of them were studies of different parts of him - his hair, his jaw, his shoulders, his hands. None of them were signed. It had to be someone who was in close contact with him all the time, and that list of people was pretty short.</p>
<p>Not Rodney, John thought. He'd never mentioned knowing how to draw, and he figured at this point Rodney would've preferred the direct approach if he had feelings for John, seeing as he wasn't in the military. Not Teyla - that had been made clear almost from the beginning, and that was just fine with John. Ronon? John mulled the possibility over in his mind. The arts were highly valued in Ronon's culture, and John could see him possibly having some drawing skills from his time on the run.</p>
<p>But it didn't feel right.</p>
<p>The only other possibility hit him like a surprise uppercut to the jaw.</p>
<p>
  <em> Lorne? </em>
</p>
<p>John couldn't deny that he hadn't thought about it. Who wouldn't? Lorne was beautiful. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, blue eyes, dimpled smile...</p>
<p>But also a shining example of the perfect airman. A perfect airman who followed regs. Every last one of them.</p>
<p>John put all the drawings in a folder and stowed the folder in a place where he'd forget it. Whether it was Lorne or it wasn't, he didn't want to think about it anymore.</p>
<p>The drawings stopped again. John tried to convince himself that it was better this way. He didn't have time for romance, forbidden or otherwise.</p>
<p>Weeks later, after a particularly grueling day, John sat at his desk and scrubbed his face with his hands. It was late and he wanted to sleep. He'd probably go for a run instead.</p>
<p>"I'm outta here, Lorne." John stood up and pushed in his chair. Lorne was the only one left in the office with him. He didn't wait for Lorne to answer and began walking toward the door.</p>
<p>"Sir? I think you forgot something."</p>
<p>John glanced back. "I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow."</p>
<p>"Actually, sir, it can't."</p>
<p>That made John turn back around. Lorne held out a piece of folded paper, his face blank. John walked back the few steps he'd taken and reached for the paper.</p>
<p>He knew what it was the instant the paper was in his hands. He froze, inadvertently staring at Lorne, but Lorne didn't look away. Finally John looked down and unfolded the drawing.</p>
<p>It was John, hunched over his desk, the way he'd looked only minutes ago. Something was written on the bottom.</p>
<p>"Somebody Loves You. EBL"</p>
<p>Lorne. Evan Lorne.</p>
<p>"It was you," John said, his voice cracking on the words. John looked back up, noticed Evan's facade beginning to slip. He was afraid.</p>
<p>John said the first thing that came into his mind.</p>
<p>"What does the 'B' stand for?"</p>
<p>Evan raised an eyebrow. "Bluebell. I grew up in a hippie commune, so -"</p>
<p>"I wanted it to be you, even if..." John whispered.</p>
<p>Evan smiled and took a step forward. "The way I see it, sir, is that the Air Force is light-years away from us. And we run Atlantis. Not them." He took another step, closing the distance between them. "And you deserve to know that somebody loves -"</p>
<p>John leaned in and kissed Evan before he could finish his sentence. It was gentle and chaste at first, but that didn't last long. When John surged forward, hands on Evan's hips, he heard the click of the office door locking.</p>
<p>John smiled against Evan's lips. "Boy, you're good."</p>
<p>"I try, sir."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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